


If You Ever Come Back

by Cassicio



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alternate Canon, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Kinda, kind of follows the actual show, more will be added as it applies, this is my fixer for season 4 yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassicio/pseuds/Cassicio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Now they say I'm wasting my time</i><br/>'Cause you're never comin' home<br/>But they used to say the world was flat<br/>But how wrong was that now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Moon Rising

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my season 4 fix it. It kind of follows canon. Kind of. It diverges a lot, but ya know... Kate, Benefactor, Dead Pool, assassins, etc.  
> With my own twists of course. I'm hoping to go episode by episode, so let's see how it goes, yes?

Watching Scott talk with the tiny, admittedly terrifying, old hunter, Lydia knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time she entered into their life to make it more complicated. The banshee could still feel the heaviness of the electrical shackles she’d been chained with earlier. She had to wonder if it would’ve made a difference if she’d been a human in the pack, rather than a banshee. They hadn’t brought Stiles out to bargain with their alpha, even if it might’ve caused Scott even more stress to have the formerly possessed boy in a position of potential pain yet again, so maybe they held to at least some moral codes.

As he finally walked towards them, she heard the rumble of an engine, drawing her attention towards a sleek, black motorcycle pulling up in front of them. The very tips of long black hair could be seen from under the helmet and, for the briefest of moments, Lydia’s breath caught in her throat.

 _Could it be_ -

The thought was cut off before she could even fully entertain it, a much darker, familiar face being revealed as the helmet was removed. Scars stood out starkly against the woman’s skin.

“Braeden,” Scott spoke up, blinking in slight surprise.

“Who’s that?” Malia asked, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. They should really probably teach the girl more tact. 

“A mercenary,” Lydia offered in answer, features now wiped smooth from both the hope and disappointment it had held not even a moment before. “You’re here to take us to The Church? They must be desperate to pay enough for that.” 

The woman on the bike smirked slightly, obviously amused by Lydia’s bluntness.

“Yeah, me and-“ 

The roar of a second engine drew Lydia's attention away from the mercenary, this time coming from the building rather than the desert and cutting Braeden off midsentence.

"Is that a secret, underground garage door?"

She didn't bother glancing at Kira as she responded. "How cliché." Seeing the motorcycle pull out, helmet hidden driver bent over it and speed towards them, her eyes widened and she began to back up. She caught Scott, Kira and Malia wincing out of the corner of her eye, as the bike shifted sideways and came to a sharp, screeching halt right next to Braeden's. "And even more cliché. Who're you?" She called out to the driver once the engine was turned off.

"Another guide, you could also say she’s here to keep you guys from getting killed, seeing as she was the only one to come back from that place alive, when all of the Calaveras’ lackies were murdered. She doesn't tend to say much. Or take off the helmet."

Turning to Braeden, she arched one eyebrow. "And we're just supposed to trust someone we don't even know the identity of." She stiffened slightly as the helmeted rider sat up and twisted to face towards her. An odd sensation washed over her, one she'd only felt around one other person and should've made her very wary. It was different though, making her almost want to relax.

"You're trusting a mercenary, is there really a difference?"

Dragging her eyes away from the mysterious biker, she looked back at the other woman.

"Touché."

“Yeah, I’ve got to grab a few things from inside, then we’ll leave. She’ll be here to keep you company,” the woman tacked on, snorting softly. Slipping off her bike without another word, she headed towards the building.

Staring after her, Lydia jumped slightly when a hand rested on her shoulder and pulled her away from the rest of the pack. Looking up and catching warm brown eyes, she immediately relaxed into Scott’s touch. The change in status from beta to alpha suited him, even if she knew he was still fumbling with how to make things work, often turning to her for advice and knowledge. Just like he was now, of course.

"So, can we trust them?" He murmured the words softly once they reached the wall of the compound, apparently far enough away now that even Malia’s were-hearing couldn’t pick up on the conversation.

"Braeden is a mercenary, we can trust her so long as the money is good."

"And the other one?"

Lydia glanced over at the person in question, leaning against her bike and hands laced together over her right side. Lydia's brow furrowed.

"Lydia?"

"Yes. Something is telling me yes, but..."

"What?"

"She feels different."

"Different?"

"Yes."

"Different how?"

Lydia didn't take her eyes off of the still helmet-hidden woman.

"Like death."

The biker's head tilted towards her and Lydia could feel them lock eyes with her, even through the black tinted glass of the motorcycle helmet. What Lydia didn't notice, is that her hand was pressed up against the exact same spot as the biker's, on her own right side.

“But you still think we can trust her?” Scott asked, breaking her from her staring contest with the woman.

“Well, she doesn’t feel the same as…” She trailed off, the thought of a certain former alpha still leaving a bad taste in her mouth and a twinge in her side.

“As Peter.”

“Yes,” she answered in a clipped tone, before glancing at the biker once more. “Similar, but…” The banshee searched for the right comparison. “Like blood, not rot.”

A small frown furrowed Scott’s brow, but Lydia didn’t know a better way to describe it. The biker didn’t make her skin prickle, didn’t make her feel dirty or make the hairs rise on the back of her neck. If anything, she’d say the woman felt protective, almost familiar. But the strawberry blonde couldn’t figure out why that sensation had flooded her, having never felt it before, not through her banshee powers anyway.

Scott broke her from her thoughts again with his next words. “I trust your judgment.”

“As you should. Besides, we don’t have much choice. She and Braeden are the ones who know this territory, not us. She even made it into the place, or at least knows what’s around it and how to fight back.”

“Right,” the alpha pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, just as Braeden stepped back out of the building, a shotgun slung over her shoulder and a second one in her hand. Reaching her bike, she tossed the spare weapon towards the other biker, whose head was turned in the other direction, seemingly staring off into space. A hand shot up to catch the gun, her reflexes making the move seem almost natural and maybe they were. It was amazing enough to make Lydia blink.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder once more, she looked up at the alpha. “We should get going. We need to find Derek as soon as possible.”

“And possibly Kate,” Lydia tacked on quietly, watching Scott’s shoulders tense noticeably, feeling her own body do the same. Each mention of the revived Argent only made the sting of the lost one worse, even two months later.

“And possibly Kate,” he echoed, heading towards the jeep.

Lydia let her forehead rest against the warm brick for a moment, hand reaching up to grip the chain around her neck. The weight of the silver bullet arrowhead had become a familiar comfort and painful reminder all in one, keeping the girl grounded. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for the task they had at hand, trying to draw on the strength her best friend had always exuded. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the wall and followed Scott.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d made it through one painful conversation about Kate – Lydia forcing herself to mention the name, even though it hurt every single time she did. She still made sure to say her best friend’s name whenever the subject came up. She wasn’t going to just let Allison be forgotten, not ever – before there was a sound almost like metal crunching together and the hood of Stiles jeep started smoking slightly.

Of course. Of course the jeep would breakdown before they could even reach their destination. In the middle of nowhere. In Mexico. Of fucking course it would.

Lydia slid out of the car, muttering several choice curses in Spanish, figuring that it was appropriate due to their location. Both of their guides pulled up next to her, just far enough away to stop the dust from kicking up directly in her face, which she was grateful for. Braeden ripped her helmet off as soon as her engine clicked off.

“What happened?”

Stiles ran fingers through his hair, one of many nervous traits Lydia had noticed over the years. Just like she’d noticed Scott’s tell of constantly shifting his gaze, rarely meeting any person’s eye around him.

…Just like Allison would drum her fingers against her thigh, sometimes even counting in French under her breath. Or how she’d tuck a curl of hair behind her ear and the potential for a crack or pause in the hunter’s voice becoming so much more likely. 

Lydia blinked, forcing the thought away and focusing back in on the conversation.

“…something broke down. There was this crunching noise, I dunno. I’ve gotta check under the hood and do some maintenance.” 

“We don’t have time for that, the sun’s setting soon. If we’re going to reach The Church, we have to go now.”

Lydia glanced at the members of her pack, uneasy at the idea of splitting up, but knowing Scott needed to go.

“Scott, go.” Stiles was the first to speak up, having a silent conversation with his best friend through look alone.

“Not without you.”

The strawberry blonde could understand Scott’s reluctance. The last two times they’d gone separate ways on a mission, someone died. Still, he needed to get to Derek, it was the most important thing.

“She’ll stay with your friends, Scott.” Braeden gestured to the other biker, who gave a small nod of agreement.

Scott crossed over to the silent woman and Lydia caught the briefest flash of red irises as he passed by her. “Promise me you’ll protect them.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, or at least that’s what Lydia could only assume she was doing, before giving another, firmer nod. 

Then Kira spoke up and the banshee turned away, giving the tentative, almost couple a moment of privacy. She moved to the hood of the jeep, which was still letting off just a bit of smoke, though it was getting wispier by the second. Hearing the screech of an engine, she looked up just in time to see Scott and Braeden speeding away on her bike. Lydia might’ve called the sight comical, Scott holding onto Braeden tightly from his place on the back of the bike, if the situation weren’t so serious. 

“So, besides the big gun, do you actually have any useful weapons for like, close range? Because I don’t know about you, but someone once taught me a lesson on long range weapons being not so great on the close up defensive front.” The ever present sass in Stiles’ words waivered on the last sentence. Lydia might have disagreed with him. Allison had been caught off guard, not with the wrong weapon. In fact, the weapon she’d used had saved them all from the Oni. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to bring up more than what already had been vaguely alluded to.

The woman’s head tilted to the side, before she bent down and drew two wickedly sharp knives out of her boots, twirling them around her fingers idly.

“Well okay then, I’m going to go get the tool kit, you have fun with those. Maybe you could entertain yourself by playing the knife game. Something tells me you actually have the skills to win it instead of losing a finger.” Lydia finally spotted real emotion in the woman, seeing her shoulders shake with silent laughter at Stiles’ words. 

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed, when Malia called out from where she was crouched down beside one of the wheels. It was always useful to have another were- _something_ around and in the pack, since Isaac had left them to go heal and recover emotionally in France. And Lydia didn’t mind having another girl around, not to mention she was good for Stiles and her bluntness was actually refreshing. All in all, she really didn’t mind having her around at all, proved again in this moment, when a claw was pulled free of the underside of the jeep. The banshee stared at it in Stiles hand, wondering what kind of beast had claws that massive. It was disconcerting to say the least, as was the fact that their mysterious tour guide had stopped doing exactly as Stiles had suggested, playing the knife game and winning spectacularly, to stare over at them. There was a rigidness in the biker’s body language that told Lydia the woman either recognized the claw, or it had made her worried. Either way, it definitely wasn’t a good sign.

After a moment, Lydia watched her roll her shoulders, as if she were shaking off a memory. The knives were slid into her boots once more and the shotgun slung around so it rested under her arm instead of across her back.

“I guess even outside of Beacon Hills we’re not safe,” Lydia heard Stiles murmur to himself. Sighing in agreement and annoyance, she moved to lean against the side of the car, knowing it’d probably be awhile before Stiles got the jeep moving again.

“You know, this probably wouldn’t have happened if you just got a new car. We should just start walking.” 

“I am not abandoning my baby!”

Rolling her eyes, she let them flutter shut for a moment.

 

* * *

 

 

The darkness came more swiftly than Lydia had expected. The Dark Moon, contrary to its name, glowed above them, it and the stars being the only source of light outside of Stiles’ flashlight that was clenched between his teeth. Lydia almost wished the moon were dark, since it represented almost everything that Lydia was trying not to think about at the moment. A physical reminder that she was still grieving and would be for a long, long time. Yet she couldn’t help looking up at the glowing rock, suspended by Earth’s gravity, only glancing away when she felt another presence step up beside her. The mysterious biker had her head tilted up to stare at the moon, a hand resting on her right side and another gripping what Lydia could only assume was a necklace of some sort, the object hidden by a gloved hand. She looked back up at the moon, knowing that trying to strike up a conversation would be useless and part of her liking the silent solidarity between them.

The moment was broken by a sudden growling sound behind them and both woman turned to see Malia tearing off after some shadow in the dunes off the side of the road. Kira cried out to her and followed, with Stiles slipping off the hood of the car to run after them, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder tugging him back. The shotgun was off the woman’s shoulder and shoved into the boy’s hand before he could even protest, instead he could only watch as she drew her knives and tore off after the two members of his pack.

“Fix the car,” Lydia ordered, tugging the gun out of his hand and checking it over critically. Allison had only given her the very basics when it came to guns that weren’t handguns, but everything looked familiar enough.

She watched Stiles glance between the dunes and the car a few times, before grumbling inaudibly to himself and moving to get back to work on the vehical.

The silence only lasted a few moments.

“Hold this,” the boy said, thrusting some sort of engine piece at Lydia, who didn’t have much choice but to grab ahold of it.

“What is it?” When she only received a shrug in response, she almost facepalmed. “Seriously, new car.”

“Never.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth the argument, the banshee changed topics. “Do you think Scott and Braeden have found Derek?”

“Well, if anyone can, it’d be Scott.” That’s one thing Lydia had to admire Stiles for, his unwavering faith in his best friend. “Besides, she said they’d reach the Church before the sun went down and, seeing as you haven’t screamed like the banshee that you are, I’d say we’re good.”

Lydia scowled at the flippant way he talked about the powers she still barely understood, but made no comment. After all, he had a point. She had no overwhelming need to let out a shriek and was grateful for that fact.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, there was movement in the dunes and Lydia lifted the gun, aiming directly at the entrance. She nearly pulled the trigger when a dark figure stepped out, but tugged her hand away from it when a familiar helmet glinted from the light cast by Stiles’ flashlight. Kira and Malia followed after, the were-coyote protesting the shoulder under her arm, stating loudly that it wasn’t that bad and she was already starting to heal.

Lydia tuned out the token argument, focusing instead on what she’d noticed in the light exposing the woman who otherwise would’ve blended in with the shadows almost perfectly. A long crack ran down the left side her the helmet and a large chip had been taken out in the center of it. She couldn’t see much, but the beginnings of a scar on either side of the woman’s eye and the deep brown of her iris. Before she could try and analyze anything else, the biker looked away and headed over to her bike. Staring after her, Lydia was startled by the sudden slamming of the jeep hood.

“Finished,” Stiles stated, obviously pleased with himself. 

“You haven’t tested it yet, you don’t even know if it’ll turn on.”

“You’re a killjoy, you know that?”

“I’m practical. Now go try and start the damn thing.”

Stiles grumbled once again as he stomped around to the driver’s side, but this time Lydia picked out a few words, ‘stupid’ and ‘know my own car’. When it did start up, Lydia breathed out a sigh of relief, not even bothering to respond to Stiles sticking his tongue out at her. They had more important things to do, like getting going and making it to The Church in time to actually do something useful.

She heard the roar of the motorcycle engine as she slid into the backseat of the jeep and looked up in time to see a booted foot connect heavily with the bike’s kickstand. The woman definitely seemed as ready to get going as Lydia. Why she was so eager to get to the place where she’d been the sole survivor was a mystery, but Lydia could guess that, after the attack, she wanted to get as far from whatever had stabbed Malia and damaged her helmet as possible.

As the jeep pulled out behind the bike, Lydia leaned her head against the window, content to watch the driver ahead of them rather than participate in the conversation going on between the couple up front. It was kind of nice actually, having Stiles focus on someone who actually had romantic feelings for him, rather than a girl who just never would. He just honestly wasn’t her type, more like an annoying brother in her eyes than a potential boyfriend. Besides, she was done going after teenage boys, this year was supposed to be used to focus on herself. Not to mention, the person she realized had actually held her affections wasn’t obtainable anymore. No, a year or more of being single definitely seemed better than trying to find any other distractions.

 

* * *

 

When they finally reached their destination, Lydia was slightly hesitant to leave the vehicle, unsure of what they were up against and how useful she’d be in handling it. Yes, Allison had given her some training, but they’d still been in the middle of the basics when the Nogitsune had started its attacks. The feeling of helplessness was not one she liked at all, but so far she’d found herself settled more into the information, intelligence and secondary leadership position, rather than the combat one. However, seeing both the mystery biker and Stiles freeze in their tracks quickly prompted her to exit the jeep and see what had caused them to react like that.

A black-gloved hand rose up, as if to run through the biker’s hair, only remembering at the last second that she was still wearing a helmet. Lydia’s gaze moved forward until it locked on something that made her freeze just like the other two had.

Hanging off of Scott’s shoulder, as they staggered out of The Church entrance, was someone Lydia only recognized through the few scarce photos she’d come across in Derek’s loft. Obviously confused and disoriented.

“Of all the things I had prepared for…” She trailed off, finishing the sentence in her head rather than out loud. _A teenage Derek was not one of them._

“Shit,” she heard Stiles breathe out from beside her. Lydia could definitely agree with that sentiment.


	2. Things Worth More Than Missing Millions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A- Allison?”
> 
> She offered the smallest of smiles to the shell-shocked alpha.
> 
> “It’s really me, Scott.”

Getting a fifteen-year-old Derek Hale back to Beacon Hills had actually been surprisingly easy, far easier than actually finding him in the first place. They’d tugged him into the car and he had promptly passed out, staying that way the entire ride home. Fitting all of them into the jeep was another matter entirely, but they managed, though Lydia had to wonder if the cost of gas would’ve made flying a much smarter idea. Then again, getting past the boarder patrols was hard enough, she didn’t even want to think about customs at the airports.

Over thinking about it would be useless anyway, they were back from their “camping trip” as they’d called it when asking for permission from their parents and had safely returned to Beacon Hills. Though, maybe using the words ‘safe’ and ‘Beacon Hills’ in the same sentence was rather oxymoronic. Now they were in the back room of Deaton’s clinic, watching over a still sleeping Derek. He looked so innocent and young. He _was_ innocent and young, or at least he was young, who knew how much of the present he even possibly remembered. Either way, Lydia felt her heart give a compassionate and painful squeeze for the boy, which was followed by a literal squeeze from the hand she held and prompted her to automatically volunteer to stay with him when Deaton mentioned sleep and school. Her grades were more than fine, even with the amount of school she’d been missing. A younger Lydia might have never missed a day of school, despite hiding her intelligence, but she was older now and there were other things that had to take priority over becoming valedictorian.

“I am so not okay with this plan. I don’t like it at all.” Stiles stated with a shake of his head and Lydia had to roll her eyes, knowing what he’d say next. “We’re leaving a werewolf in the hands of two very mortal, fragile, easily wounded or killed people. Nope. Don’t like it. I’m staying.” 

Meeting Scott’s gaze, Lydia silently asked for him to intervene. She knew she could handle herself in this situation, and Stiles needed to get some sleep and then go to class. Scott did look concerned for a moment, until Lydia patted the side of her jacket, where a familiar weapon rested in the inside pocket. A Chinese ring dagger to be exact. Apparently Allison had actually been practical enough to have a will made, or perhaps it was something every hunter was expected to do, just in case. Either way, her set of daggers, pistol and several decidedly less deadly objects had suddenly ended up in Lydia’s possession. Her compound bow had also been gifted to the banshee, but Lydia kept it hung up in her closet, not quite ready to possibly hear something when she plucked the string. It was too soon, just a little too soon.

Knowing Lydia had some way of defending herself, Scott relaxed and reached out to grab the back of Stiles’ shirt, easily dragging him towards the front of the shop. They all ignored the spastic boy’s protesting, knowing it was more reflexive than anything else. Losing one of their own had made the danger all the more real in all of their eyes and, in turn, had made them each more protective over the others in some way or other. Still, in this moment it was more hindering than helpful and Lydia was glad Scott understood that.

Looking away from the door as she heard the protesting die out with distance, the strawberry blonde stared down at the boy asleep on the surgical table, reaching out to take his hand gently in her own once more and squeezing. She was struggling to see how the face in front of her had turned into the broody, stubble-covered one it changed into in less than ten years. Then again, when she looked in the mirror, she could barely recognize herself as the same girl who’d walked up to a beautiful, tall brunette and called that girl her best friend less than three years ago.

She was brought out of her thoughts, ones Lydia had been getting lost in more and more frequently in the last two months, by Deaton’s voice.

“Perhaps you should sit down and rest for a bit? I have a few more tests I want to run, for reflexes and such, before he wakes up.”

They hadn’t told Deaton much of what went down in Mexico. As much of a mentor as the older man was, it seemed easier to focus on the most pressing matters. They could deal with the emotional trials of getting from point A to point B themselves, as a pack and individually. Plus, informing Christopher Argent of his sister’s return seemed to take priority. But Lydia could tell that the vet knew something other than just finding a young Derek had affected them, more even than the emotional dampness that had been plaguing them since their loss at the abandoned concentration camp.

Rather than argue, the girl simply nodded and crossed to the chair he gestured her towards, settling into it with as inaudible a sigh as she could muster up. Her eyes fluttered shut almost as instantaneously as her temple settled against the smooth wall of the veterinary room. Exhaustion painted itself in the paler than normal skin and dark bruises under hidden hazel eyes, as Lydia finally gave in and drifted off as best she could in the upright position.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Don’t frown, Lydia. Someone could be falling in love with your smile.”_

_The strawberry blonde pursed her lips and glanced between the boy with the buzz-cut, who had just knocked over a display case and her best friend. She then did a double take, before blinking and staring wide-eyed at her best friend._

_“Allison?”_

_Gone were the long dark curls, replaced by the shorter locks the brunette had been sporting when she’d returned from France with just before junior year. The incredulous smile and raised eyebrows were familiar enough to jolt the shorter girl from her searching of Allison’s face, allowing her to take in Allison’s outfit. That was another familiar one, right down to the archery half-gloves that fit over long fingers perfectly, contrasting starkly with pale skin and red nails._

_Lydia’s brow furrowed. Allison hadn’t been wearing that outfit the day they went to the mall. With that thought, she glanced around them, everything suddenly very different around her. The brightly lit space was replaced with a flickeringly lighted, concrete passageway, one that was far too familiar for Lydia’s comfort. In fact, the sight of it alone was enough to make her heart rate skyrocket. Add on a terrified and desperate looking Scott, holding up a waxy skinned Stiles and the banshee was taking off for the star-lit end of the passage way in seconds._

_It felt like she’d been running an eternity when she abruptly stepped out into the open air and crashed into the chain link fence beyond. Her eyes widened as she saw Allison straighten up with a relieved smile as the Oni she shot vanished, her mouth opening to scream and warn the brunette, knowing what was coming. But, before she could even gather the breath to call out, the sword slid home into Allison’s right side and all the way through, splattering blood against the concrete behind her. The scream that left her throat in the next instant was entirely involuntary. One that Lydia had hoped would never, ever leave her throat._

“Allison,” Lydia breathed out, eyes snapping open and instantly darting around to get her bearings. Taking a few deep breaths, she slowly calmed herself down, silently repeating to herself that it was a dream, over and over again. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of actually seeing her best friend’s murder and it would not be the last, she had no doubts about that. That didn’t mean it ever got any easier and she was quick to raise a hand and scrub at her eyes, ridding herself of the tears before they could really fall.

“Do you dream about her often?” 

Her head shot up at the sudden question, locking onto Deaton’s concerned, empathetic features. He was standing beside Derek, who Lydia noted was still passed out, a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff in his hands. With how light it was growing outside, the werewolf had to have been sleeping at least twenty hours.

“Often enough,” she mumbled out, standing slowly and stretching out her back with a wince. “Is he alright?” The frown on the veterinarian’s face didn’t reassure her in the least and she was quick to cross closer.

“His heart rate is alarmingly high and his temperature is running hotter than a werewolf’s normally should. I want to try something. Take his hand and hold his arm out for me.” Eyeing the man for a brief moment, Lydia then quickly did as asked, tensing up as he drew a knife along Derek’s forearm. Her eyes widened in amazement as the skin knit itself back together within seconds.

“That’s not normal either, is it?”

Deaton gave her a look, eyebrows rising. “No. His healing is happening at an accelerated rate, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Pursing her lips, Lydia nodded, looking back down at the boy. “Great.”

“I want to try one more thing.” Resting Derek’s arm back down at his side, Lydia followed the vet as he moved towards the counter and picked up a syringe.

“What are you-“ the question was cut off as Lydia turned around and came face to face with wide, scared, glowing, _open_ blue eyes. “Derek.”

The boy’s eyes seem almost unseeing and his claws slip free with a sound that seems to echo in the empty clinic. Lydia’s hand reached hesitantly for her inner pocket and the dagger, not wanting to have to hurt Derek unless absolutely necessary. The snide part of her, that always liked to speak up in moments like this, was quick to point out that it wasn’t likely she’d do any damage to the wolf with how little she even knew about the weapon in her pocket. Not for the first time, Lydia cursed the fact that the last year had been so hectic and cut into almost all the time she and Allison had set aside for the hunter to teach her defense and weaponry.

The motion was useless anyway, as she watched Deaton step closer only to be sliced at. She only just barely caught the man as he crashed back towards her, watching helplessly as Derek bolted out the door and out of the clinic entirely.

“Shit.”

 

* * *

 

More curses were quick to leave Lydia’s lips, in a multitude of languages, once the rest of the Pack had arrived at the clinic and Deaton gave out his diagnosis. A physically fifteen-year-old Derek Hale she could handle, mostly, but a mentally fifteen year old one? With no memory of the fire, his family’s plight… And what was even worse, with no knowledge of how truly awful Kate Argent was and still is.

A particularly harsh and violent string of foreign words left her mouth at that last thought, resulting in Scott yelping out her name almost reproachfully. Of course he would actually know what she’d said. Allison had been particularly fond of using that insult whenever she was sincerely pissed off. The French had always rolled much more fluidly off the hunter’s tongue, making the words sound beautiful, despite their translated meaning.

She didn’t bother offering an apology, since it wouldn’t be at all sincere anyway.

“Where would a terrified fifteen year old, with no knowledge of how he got where he was when he woke up go?” Stiles mumbled.

“Home,” Scott stated, eyes growing wide. “Oh god.” He started towards the door, then hesitated, turning back to the rest of his pack. 

“Go,” Lydia waved a hand at him, before going back to fixing the last of the bandaging around Deaton’s arm. “Take Stiles. I’ll make sure Malia and Kira get back home.”

“I was going to run,” Malia stated.

“Okay, I’ll get Kira home.” She rolled her eyes exasperatedly as the alpha continued to hesitate. “Go, Scott. Find Derek.” Her last words were mumbled after Scott was, hopefully, out of earshot. “Before Kate does.”

Turning to Kira, she rolled her shoulders back, sighing as her spine cracked at the motion. “Okay, I don’t know about you, but I definitely need a shower and to change into something that doesn’t have another country’s dirt embedded in it.” 

Kira’s smile was less hesitant than it might’ve been a few months ago, the kitsune having grown used to Lydia’s personality for the most part, but Lydia’s heart still clenched at the sight of it. Part of her still expected to receive a playful eye roll and teasing smile that would show off otherworldly dimples, when she made honest comments like that. Shaking away the thought, she offered the smallest smile of her own and gestured with her head towards the exit, murmuring a goodbye to Deaton as they left.

 

* * *

 

Feeling slightly more awake after twenty-five minutes under a massage level spray of warm water and relieved to hear from Scott that they’d found Derek and were keeping a careful eye on him, Lydia was quick to tug Kira out of her house and into the car. She knew the other girl had something she wanted to talk about and that it was only a matter of time before she spoke up.

She, of course, was proven right just as they turned into the gas station nearest to the southern edge of town.

“Do you think what happened in Mexico ruined my chances with Scott?” Lydia just barely managed to bite back a sigh of relief as Kira blurted out the problem. “You know, with the whole, dialing up the electricity while he was being tortured thing. Do you think he’s upset with me?”

Lydia could’ve rolled her eyes, but fought the urge back in favor of turning towards the girl. Though her look probably screamed her exasperation almost as loudly as an eye roll would’ve.

“No, I don’t think it ruined your chances as all. What happened wasn’t your fault and he knows that. Besides, you’re a katana-wielding, badass kitsune.” She offered a small smile. “And he couldn’t be more into you. Okay?”

Kira nodded, but then hesitated again. “Do you,” she paused, gaze turning apologetic. “Do you think it’s too soon for me to be thinking about trying for something again? After…” Lydia didn’t need to ask what Kira had been about to say, knowing already what the words would’ve been.

“Allison would want him to be happy and you make him happy. Go for it.” With those words, she popped open the car door and headed towards the bathroom at the back of the station. “Grab the Beacon Hills Credit Union credit card from the visor and fill up the-“

The word ‘tank’ died in her throat, as she came up to the open bathroom door and she missed Kira’s reply as static seemed to fill her ears.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?”  
  
“Don’t look.”  
  
The sharp intake of breath beside her told Lydia that her instructions had been ignored, but the eviscerated carcass in front of her held too much of her attention for a sarcastic comment or sign of frustration to form.

“And I thought that I might be done just finding random bodies,” she finally murmured.

 

* * *

 

An hour of scanning the scene later, the banshee felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her dress. Tugging the device out, she felt palpable relief at Scott’s name flashing across the screen. That relief vanished when the alpha admitted to her that Kate had gotten to Derek and they had no idea where either of the supernatural beings were.

“Okay, well barring the possibility of us having another potentially vicious, clawed creature roaming around Beacon Hills yet again, I think I know where she’s been.”

“ _What does that mean Lydia?_ ”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think most people have the means of tearing someone apart with claws and teeth. There are definitely signs of both things, despite the… Mutilation.”

She could picture Scott’s wide eyes as he replied to her. “ _Mutilation?_ ”

“Yeah, I’ll take some pictures and send them to you.” She stepped cautiously over a torn off arm, swallowing back the urge to gag at both the smell and the amount of blood and gore surrounding her. “Let me tell you, Scott. I may have a 4.0 in AP Biology, but there are parts of a human spread over these walls that I have never seen before.” 

Hearing a familiar voice murmur something about control in the background, Lydia grimaced. “I’ll finish taking pictures and forward the rest of them to you, Scott. And then I’ll grab Stiles and we’ll meet you and Malia wherever you find Derek. Just text me with the details.” Not bothering to wait for a response, she hung up and continued to take pictures, lip curling with distaste as she leaned closer to a particular place in order for the flash to light up the spot effectively enough. “Looks like we’ve got an out of control were-jaguar on our hands, she deadpanned, looking up over her shoulder at a wide-eyed Kira. 

“We should get going.” She straightened up just as the phone in her hand vibrated. Clicking open the message from Scott, her lips pursed. “Looks like we’re headed to the school after we grab Stiles.”

 

* * *

 

Scott eyed the bone-covered monsters in front of him with more than a little fear and wariness, when a clattering behind him told him that Peter had taken off up the stairs. They’d arrived at the school shortly after Lydia had hung up on him so abruptly and now, of course, they were running for their lives from something that was supposedly unbeatable.

“Come on, Malia!” He grabbed the werecoyote’s arm and tugged her around, nearly tripping as they bolted up the stairs and away from the monsters he could hear picking up speed behind them. The alpha did trip as he finally reached the upper levels of the school’s outdoor courtyard, crashing shoulder first into a support beam. Knowing that running anymore wouldn’t do any good, he whirled around to face off against the berserkers, eyes flashing crimson and lighting up the night covered space in front of him.

It only took him a few swings for Scott to realize he was fighting a losing battle, but he pressed on, right up until his skull was used to create a crack in the concrete of a support beam. He could feel the bone starting to knit itself together again, but still staggered and fell as he was released, crashing down beside his injured beta, who was clutching at her leg, attempting to stem the blood flowing from the gash there.

He could only watch dazedly -- and perhaps more than a little turned on, despite circumstances – as Kira appeared and brought her sword into play. He met the kitsune’s eyes for the briefest instance as she glanced away from the fight and that was enough. He saw the claws headed towards her and instantly flashed back to two months ago, feeling imaginary chain links pressing into his palms as he reached out for the girl.

“Kira, look out!” _Not again. Please, not again._

Just as the sword was ripped from Kira’s hands, an engine roared behind him, followed by an almost equally loud roar and glowing flash of eyes from further down the path way. As if in sync, Derek smashed into one berserker, while a motorcycle seemed to almost fly off of the last step, the spinning wheels crashing against the other monster and sending it flying back into a column.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia heard twin roaring sounds, followed by a loud crash, as she came stumbling up from the parking lot, where she’d practically leapt out of the car as soon as it came to a halt. She heard the loud footfalls of Stiles behind her and turned to ask if she was right in thinking that only one of the roars sounded like an actual animal, only to stop mid-word and roll her eyes.

“You’ve got to find something better than a bat.”

Once again not waiting for a response, she took off for what looked like a set of stairs under the BHHS front sign. For the briefest moment, Lydia wondered if everything in this town linked to the Hales in some way, before jumping down the stairs double time, only to see Peter kneeling in front of an almost empty bank vault.

 

* * *

 

Malia, Scott and Kira could only really watch in aw, as the mysterious guide who’d been with them in Mexico and Derek fought, back-to-back, against the two berserkers. Her bike laid abandoned and smoking against the railing, where the berserker had shoved it off of itself, but the woman hadn’t so much as spared it a glance, after she’d pushed herself to her feet and drawn twin daggers from out of her boots, turning to face the monsters.

To the alpha’s surprise, which he’d be sheepish over later, Derek seemed to be holding his own well against the berserker in front of him. However, what made Scott keep staring at the other werewolf was the way his body seemed to be fluctuating, growing and shrinking between the Derek he remembered and the fifteen-year-old one he’d found in The Church. He was broken from his confused staring as a helmet went flying through his field of vision, followed by the crashing sound of a body hitting the floor. Moving to scramble to his feet again, broken from his shock by the sudden damage done to the biker, he paused in confusion as the berserkers took off, chasing after the unmistakable shadow of Kate Argent. 

A groan drew his gaze from the retreating figures, but he didn’t reach the fallen figure, before his sight locked on golden orbs that made his eyes widen.

“Derek?”

Movement out of the corner of his eye broke their locked gazes and both wolves snapped their heads around, teeth bared in warning. The sight in front of them made both freeze entirely, even their breaths cutting off and shock palpable.

 

* * *

 

 

The girl coughed as she sat up, trying to get air back in her lungs. She’d definitely cracked a rib on the concrete and blood dripped from a deep wound in her stomach. Bringing one hand up to staunch the bleeding, she brushed her hair from her face with her free hand and cursed quietly.

_Seriously? This is like my favorite jacket. Wait, there’s hair in my face. Shit._

Glancing around, she immediately locked on the shocked features of everyone surrounding her. Even Malia looked stunned and they’d barely talked before everything went down at Oak Creek.

“Shit,” she breathed out.

“A- Allison?”

She offered the smallest of smiles to the shell-shocked alpha.

“It’s really me, Scott.”

Before she could try and stand, the boy had scrambled to his feet and staggered towards her, as if his moves were involuntary, a simple need to get closer and check for details. He stared at her a moment longer and then launched forward, arms wrapping tightly around her. Despite the protest of her slowly healing rib, her own arms came up and squeezed back just as tightly, breathing in the werewolf’s familiar scent and finally feeling calm again. It was the first time in months that she’d had real human affection, first time in months that she’d felt home again, wrapped in the arms of her alpha.

“Holy shit. _Allison._ ”

The huntress felt hot tears begin to drip against her neck and realized her own face was wet with them as well.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear, knowing most of the people around them would be able to hear it anyway, but also knowing they were allowing the two a necessary private moment.

“…Didn’t she die?”

Okay, a semi private moment. Allison had to choke out a laugh at Malia’s blunt question though. She’d seen evidence of the girl’s lack of tact in the desert and honestly found it refreshing. The pack really needed someone who was so straightforward.

Scott pulled back to look her in the eyes again, wonder filling his own gaze.

“How- what… You’re-“

“I’ll explain everything,” she interrupted. “But I just- I need this and I need to see-“ 

“Allison.” The word was a breath more than an actual word, but Allison would know that voice anywhere. Pulling away from the alpha delicately, the hunter pushed herself to her feet and turned to face her best friend.

“Hi.” It was the only thing she could say. 

“But I- I felt you die.”

She knew the banshee wasn’t going to wait for at least a partial answer, like Scott would, and resigned herself to answering with a sheepish shrug.

"Sometimes hunters allow for a little magic. I'm so sorry."

"Magic?"

"Everything had to seem believable. You needed a way to trick the trickster. I had an idea and-“

"And you let me- _us_. You let us think you were dead!"

Shock was quickly turning to confusion on the strawberry blonde’s features, followed by the anger Allison had more than expected. She’d anticipated it really and, though it probably shouldn’t have, it made her feel more solid in her need to be there and her resolve to explain. She deserved it in a way and she’d take the coming storm from the other girl with open arms, because it meant Lydia hadn’t lost her fire in the wake of Allison’s death. Still, she could at least try to calm the banshee down long enough to actually get a proper reunion with the one she’d missed the most.

"Lydia."

"No! Don't 'Lydia' me. “

Okay, maybe the reunion would have to wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia could barely force herself to believe she wasn’t dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d thought up scenarios of the brunette’s miraculous return. It had cut into her morning routine more than once, as she had to give herself at least ten minutes to cry and then compose herself before going about the day. Still, her dreams had never been in vivid detail like this moment was. The anger welling inside of her had never occurred in her sleeping  state. No, this definitely had to be real and Lydia’s relief was tempered by lividness, though the rational side of her knew it was more out of shock and a small amount of indignation than anything else. The words and emotions that had been bottled up inside of her slipped out before she could even think about what she was saying.

“Where have you been for the last two months huh? Where have you been? Because I'll tell you where I've been! I've been spending every fucking day missing my best friend. I've spent every day watching Scott try to learn how to laugh again and flinching when it actually happened! I've watched Stiles fighting to not drown in guilt! I've spent all this time so angry that you couldn't just listen to me for once and stay away! I've spent two months trying to come to terms with the fact that I would never get to hear your laugh or watch you with your bow or see your face or- or-"

She felt herself being pulled tight against a firm, leather clad chest, arms holding her close even as she fought to break free, to continue her rant. Lydia hadn’t even registered that the brunette had closed the space between them.

"Lydia, Lydia, I'm sorry. Hey, look at me." 

Finally stopping struggling, Lydia looked up as Allison loosened her hold on her. Bringing a hand up, she brought it against the brunette's cheek in a sharp slap, slight guilt warring with just a bit of satisfaction at the angry red mark she left.

"Okay, I deserved that," she heard the hunter mutter.

"Yeah, you did." She stated, before pulling the girl in for a tight hug, ear pressed right at level with Allison's chest, so she could hear the strong, steady beat of her heart.

"You fucking idiot."

"I love you."

Feeling the brunette's chin settle on top of her head, she let her eyelids flutter shut.  
"I love you too, idiot. But don't think this means I'm not still mad at you."

She felt, more than heard a chuckle rumble through Allison's chest.

"I know."

 

* * *

 

Allison stayed in the embrace for several moment, before reluctantly pulling away, knowing that she needed to at least check the wound in her side, despite the fact that she could feel it knitting itself together already. Maybe it was a little less deep than she thought, flashbacks to another time she’d been stabbed near the same area making her misjudge the wound briefly. Stepping back, she turned away from the pack, giving them a moment to gather themselves while she analyzed things.

Reaching for the zipper of her biking jacket, she carefully tugged it down and pulled the garment open and then off her shoulders. A series of gasps and sharp intakes of breath behind her made the hunter pause, wondering what had caused the commotion. Then a pattern caught her eye and she realized.

The time recovering in Mexico hadn’t been spent only on building back her strength. Once she’d woken from the coma like state of her healing process, she’d made a serious of alterations that she’d known would cause a shock factor once she’d returned to Beacon Hills.

The first change had been a massive wing tattoo, spreading up from her hips to her shoulder blades and then extending down her arms all the way to her wrists. There were other bits of ink scattered around her body, but that was the most prominent and obviously what had caused the reaction from the pack.

The second change had been due to the intensity of her workouts since she’d woken up in Mexico. She’d changed up her routine and, without school, increased the workouts to everyday, more than once. As a result of the increase, her body had slimed and toned further, but with a build up of muscle that was clearly visible when she looked in the mirror. Not to say she was a narcissist, but her abs had firmed out into something she wasn’t ashamed to say she was proud of.

Third, and probably one of the two involuntary changes, was the fact that the little over two months of time in the Mexican heat and sun had changed her normally pale skin to an almost golden color, giving the girl a healthier glow. The other involuntary change had been the increase in the number of scars littering her body. Outside of the familiar small scars and calluses on her hands from archery and the all too expected knot of scarring from where the Oni blade had driven through her abdomen, each new wound, even though it healed at an almost unimaginably fast rate for a human, left its own telling white lines and pink ridges. The most noticeable, which the others must have overlooked in their shock, was a claw mark that crossed diagonally over her eyebrow, just barely skipping her left eye and then ended below it, scratching down her cheek. Her aunt had almost looked apologetic when she left the mark, showing Allison that the woman’s control on her powers were more than a little unsteady.

All in all, she glanced down at her wound through the thin tank top covering her torso, before checking over her shoulder to see the wide-eyed, open-mouthed stares of her friends. The reaction drew a bit of a teasing smirk to one corner of her mouth and she couldn’t help calling out to them.

“You might want to lift your jaws off the floor, before you catch flies." 

The words seemed to barely register with them, their blatant staring continuing. Allison suppressed a good-natured eye roll and tugged her jacket back on.

“That better? Because by the looks of it, we’ve got some more important things to worry about. Berserkers, my aunt being alive and not in too much control of her shifting. Probably a slew of other things I’ve missed. Ringing any bells?”

That drew a huff from Lydia, finally snapping her out of her shocked state.

“Right. And Peter just had one hundred and seventeen million dollars stolen from the Hale vault.”

“I’d say that karma’s a bitch, but I have a feeling that move is going to come back and bite us all in the ass.”

“As it always does. Also, Allison.” The hunter arched a brow in question. “You’ve got some serious, detailed explaining to do.”

Allison nodded, growing more serious. “We should probably get away from the school first though. It’s a bit of a long story and I’d rather not be around Beacon Hills High School when the student population starts arriving.”

Scott piped up then, finally seemingly over his shock.

“Why though? Aren’t you planning on coming back to school?” Confusion shown in the wrinkles of his forehead, caused by the furrowing of his brow.

Allison had to snort softly at the question. “Well, I’m kind of supposed to be dead. I don’t know about you, but I think having another ‘Jackson’ incident might finally be the nail in the coffin of this town’s complete ignorance.”

Her gaze then locked on another member of the pack that she needed to talk to. “Also, I’d rather not have them to overhear private affairs, like the amount of words I’ll need to spill to get it across to a certain formerly possessed boy who has no reason to blame himself for events that honestly weren’t his fault.” She saw Stiles open his mouth to protest and lifted a hand. “Like I said, not here. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“I have a key to Deaton’s shop.” 

“That works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it took longer than I'd like to update this. Hopefully chapter 3 will take far less time.
> 
> Anyway, okay basically anything that isn't gone into detail over (Derek's storyline and Scott's etc, since this is Lydia/Allydia centric) can kinda be assumed to follow canon of the episode per chapter.  
> Once I start diverging even more from canon, I'll try and fill in more detail.  
> The diverging obviously has started, but it'll be more prominent in the coming chapters. I have some things I definitely wanna change around.
> 
> SO YES MY BABY IS ALIVE OKAY. And changed up. A bit more reckless too.
> 
> Reviews are always encouraged as are critiques. I have no beta, so any mistakes in grammar and spelling... I apologize.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Let's begin.  
> Comments are always welcomed.


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